Who Wants to Live Forever
by Aurien
Summary: While looking at the photo of the original Order one night, Harry catches a glimpse of a strange woman, a woman who was not there before. Who is she? And what is her secret?
1. Chapter 1

_This story is kind of an attempt to revive my (extremely) old story "Harry Potter and the New Marauders" that I wrote several years ago and currently makes me want to cry. Yes, it's that bad. I've been working on this since OotP (the book) came out, so I hope everyone likes it!_

_Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, just the original characters featured in the fic._

_Thanks for reading!_

* * *

Unable to sleep, Harry sat up. On the other side of the room, his friend Ron was snoring lightly into his pillow. The moonlight shifted through the ruddy curtains and drifted lazily over the room. Harry's eyes wandered once again to the photo by the side of his bed, the photo that Hagrid had given him a few days before. Putting on his glasses, he grabbed it and gazed at it for the hundredth time. He watched as his parents exchanged loving glances and smiles. They looked so happy to be there together, so happy to be surrounded by their friends and comrades. They turned their gaze out, their eyes seemingly comforting Harry in his time of trouble, though he knew it wasn't really so. Harry scanned the photo again, his eyes glancing over Frank and Alice Longbottom, who stood strong and proud in the front row. The Longbottoms looked so happy; if only they'd known what fate was in store for their future. Sirius and Professor Lupin, also beaming, stood close to Harry's parents. Sighing, Harry watched the four of them playfully nudge one another and laugh, their happiness forever captured in that euphoric moment. 

Suddenly, something caught Harry's eye. There was someone else in the photo, someone new. This person, a woman, stood by Lily at the edge of the picture, barely in view, almost as though she were trying to hide. Her hair was dark and long, and it hung in a most unflattering manner around her face. She seemed worn and tired, as though she'd not slept in weeks. Her face was thin and appeared rather sad. The clothes she wore were dark and heavy. Harry watched his mother as she turned to the mystery girl and nudged her in the side. The woman smirked, then, at the urging of both Lily and James, began to smile awkwardly She looked uncomfortable in her surroundings, like she didn't want to be there.

Harry was certain that she had not been there when Moody had named off the members in the photo. He did not know who she was, or where she'd been, but there was something strangely familiar about her, something he felt he'd seen before, he'd known before, he'd spoken with before. He knew, however, that he had never even laid eyes upon that woman before that moment. He needed to know her name, where she was – was she still working for the Order? Where was she now?

Baffled, Harry got up and, careful not to wake Ron, sneaked out of the room, taking the picture with him downstairs, desperate to find out who the woman was - or had been. He reached the front hall, making sure to sneak quietly past the portrait of Sirius' mother, and looked around. At that time of night, he hadn't expected to find many others awake, but a light towards the end of the hall indicated that someone indeed was. Harry softly crept down the corridor, praying that the light was not just due to Kreacher's late night ramblings. He opened the door to find Remus Lupin sitting at the long table, his nose buried in a rather thick Hermione-esque book; a chocolate bar not far out of reach.

"Professor - ?"

Remus looked up from his book, "Harry. Still awake at this hour?"

"I couldn't sleep."

"I can't blame you." he replied, "As you can see, I've had some trouble sleeping as well."

"Could I ask you a question?"

"Of course." Remus answered, closing his book. Harry walked over and sat next to him. He placed the old photograph onto the table before his former teacher.

"I'd forgotten about this." Remus said with a smile.

"Who is this girl?" Harry asked, pointing to the mystery figure at the edge of the picture, "When Mad-Eye gave me this photograph, she wasn't there. I've no idea who she is, but there's something about her - something familiar."

Remus leaned over for a better look. It did not take him long to identify her. By the looks of it, he had known her very well. He leaned back, his smile suddenly gone from his face; "I have not seen her for some time."

Harry looked at the girl in photo, her dark eyes looking away from the camera. Harry followed her line of vision - it led to Remus. Harry looked up at his old professor, who seemed a little reluctant to elaborate on the matter.

"I can't imagine why she'd seem familiar to you, Harry." Remus said quietly, his eyes watching the girl, "She went to school with us – your father and I. She appeared out of nowhere in our fourth year, and then disappeared after sixth year. I didn't see her again until well after we had all left school, about the time this group came together. She was a good friend of your mother's. Skilled as she was, she was a complete mystery to those who knew her."

"What do you mean?" Harry asked, confused.

Remus looked at Harry, then back at the photo, "It's late, Harry. You should be trying to get some sleep."

Picking up the picture, Harry stood and headed for the door. Looking at the girl once more, he stopped and looked at his old professor, "You were also friends with her, Professor, weren't you?"

Remus nodded slightly; "At least, that is what I thought."


	2. Chapter 2

_Hey folks, thanks for reading the first chapter - I hope you like it so far! Now, I'll stop distracting you and allow you to continue on with chapter two . . . _

* * *

Cursing the mounting shortness of the days, Amara Corvus pulled her thick cloak in closer around her. The summer heat was beginning to die, making way for the cool air of fall to sweep in around her. Cold and tired, she had not slept in three days, let alone eaten anything. Her mouth was dry, her feet ached, her stomach ready to collapse into itself. Her clothes were torn and filthy, her boots covered in dried mud. Her long, dark hair hung around her face in a thick, matted mess. The bags under her eyes were heavy and a deep purple in colour. Her pale skin was smudged with dirt and dried blood. Her presence was altogether quite unpleasant, and she knew it. Yet, there was nothing she could do. There was no point in cleaning up, if only to just get dirtier the go around. She'd been on the run for three months, ever since the Dark Lord had risen. She truly despised living the life of a gypsy, trudging from one place to another, but she was doing Dumbledore's will. No matter how much she hated having to do it again, her decoy work was important for the Order. If she knew nothing else, she certainly knew that her work was ensuring the momentary safety of those she'd left back home. It kept the Death Eaters distracted from the work being done in London – and it kept their minds off of the thing Voldemort was after, Harry Potter.

Dark was falling around her. She knew that if she did not find a place to sleep, she would be exceedingly vulnerable in the unpredictable night of the forest. Ignoring the churning in her stomach, she hastened her pace, her feet moving noiselessly against the soft ground. She knew these woods well. They had once been a great haven for her, back when she was much younger. It was a fool's errand to attempt to track her in those woods. Even the Dark Lord knew that.

A heavy rain began to penetrate the thick woods of the Schwartzwald, pouring down upon her in broad, heavy drops. She stopped mid-step and allowed the rain to fall over her face and run through her long, dark hair. She had not felt the sensation of rain in months, and, despite the cold, she relished in it. The moment was sincere in its simplicity, but anything was better than thoughts of the evil that was returning to the world. She felt as though the rain were washing away all of the ache and strife she'd been dealing with for so long. For in that moment, she felt a sort of strange freedom, a freedom she knew she'd been longing for all her life. She knew all too well, however, that the feeling was just in her head. She was making it something more than it really was, but it felt good nonetheless.

She shook her head, sending spare raindrops to the forest floor. Now wet, hungry and freezing, Amara had had enough. She headed for the foot of the mountains. She was in no mood to spend all night searching for a cave to stay in; especially if it meant spending more time in the heavy rain. She was exhausted enough as it was. She came to the solid wall of rock formed by the monstrous mountains that cut through the forest. They seemed to reach up to the clouds, as if attempting to pry themselves from their earthly bondage. The mountains were rather frightening in the dark. She'd forgotten how intimidating they could be. Coming up to the cold stone, Amara put her ear up to the surface. It sounded stable enough. She backed off and removed her gloves. She focused all of her remaining energy at the rock before her. With a deep breath, she stretched out her arms and began to make a subtle pulling motion with her emaciated fingers. She could feel her muscles quiver from the sudden pressure being applied to them.

Suddenly, the rock began to shake. Drops of water fell from the surface to the damp ground. The forest floor felt as though it were trembling beneath Amara's feet. The harder she focused, the more violent the shaking became. She motioned with her fingers once more. The task should have been finished by now. She knew that she was pushing her own limits, that she was only going to drain her body more, but she wasn't going to let a little physical limitation get in the way of her magic. Again, she motioned with her hands. The rock slowly began to break away from the mountain and move towards her. She could feel her whole body begin to shake. Her mind was beginning to doubt whether or not she would be able to muster that single feat.

"_Mobilisilex_!" she cried out, though she immediately wished she hadn't.

She pulled once more and the stone came loose. She raised her arms and examined the hole she'd made in the mountain. It was a fair size, but not too big as to draw far too much attention to itself. Then she looked at the large boulder she was holding up in mid-air, the rain drops dripping off its rough edges. With a flick of her wrists, she sent the thing flying off up the mountainside as though it were nothing more than a piece of trash meant to be thrown away. Instantly, she felt the immense pressure release her shoulders and, rather weakly, headed for the cave she'd just carved out for herself. It was cold and dark inside, but she'd expected nothing less.

"_Incendio_." she muttered and, with a flick of her wrist, a warm fire grew in the center of the cave.

Amara sat down near the fire and wrung the excess water out of the length of her dark hair. She shivered in the cold, despite the heat of the fire. Sighing, she placed her hand on her forehead and quietly mumbled "_Siccusio_." Instantly a rush of warmth ran through her, and her hair and clothes were perfectly dry. She wished she had the ability to conjure up some food for herself, but she knew that it was not possible. She would have to suffice with another day of no sustenance. She lied down on the floor of the cave, too tired to move any further. Closing her eyes, she thought of the freedom she'd felt out in the forest. A freedom she'd wished could have lasted much longer.

The only thing that made her troubles a little brighter was the fact that Dumbledore had summoned her back to Hogwarts.

She was going home, at last.


	3. Chapter 3

_Okay, I know, those first two chapters were very, very short. So, I made up for it with this nice, long chapter! This is the chapter where you'll be able to see what I've taken from my other (horrible) story and reworked into this story. Read, enjoy, and, as always, reviews are greatly appreciated :-)_

* * *

Harry sat in the last compartment of Hogwarts Express, feeling lonely despite being far from alone. He had never ridden the train without being able to endure the passing time with Ron, who, as a newly instated Prefect, was off patrolling the corridors with Hermione. He had been bumped from compartment to compartment in an attempt to find a place of solace away from those students who'd read too much of the _Daily Prophet_ over the summer. He wanted nothing more than to simply fade away into nothingness - anything to get him out of the range of the stares and whispers that came from his classmates. His eyes came to fall upon the girl sitting across from him. She had been speaking about her summer to Ginny. The girl had a strange, dotty etherealness to her and, at the time they'd found their seats, had been reading her magazine upside-down. Her eyes met his; "You're Harry Potter." she deduced. 

"I know I am." Harry responded. His unwillingness to speak was clearly unapparent. Neville, who had been trying to avoid sitting with the girl when Harry met up with him in the corridor, chuckled.

"And I don't know who you are." she said, her pale eyes falling upon Neville.

"I'm nobody."

Ginny quickly turned on him, "No you're not. Neville Longbottom - Luna Lovegood. Luna's in my year, but in Ravenclaw."

Harry turned away from the rest of their conversation. He didn't want to be there anyway. He wanted to be with Sirius, with Lupin. He wanted to be fighting. He wanted everyone to know that he wasn't a liar. He wanted everyone to know that they were all in very grave danger. He wanted Ron and Hermione to be there with him, instead of his gangly dormitory mate and a girl who wore what looked like radishes for earrings and kept her wand behind her ear. He watched as the sky went from a very pleasurable blue to a sudden dismal gray, yet the change hardly registered at all. His mind was on other things.

"Guess what I got for my birthday?" Neville said, breaking Harry's stream of thought.

"Another Remembrall?"

Neville shook his head, "No. No, look at this . . ." He rummaged around in his bag and pulled out a strange, boil-covered, pulsating, gray cactus-like plant in a pot. He beamed as he continued, "_Mimbulus mimbletonia_. It's really, really rare. I don't know if there's one in the greenhouse at Hogwarts, even. I can't wait to show it to Professor Sprout. My great-uncle Algie got it for me in Assyria. I'm going to see if I can breed from it."

Harry quickly looked from Neville to the stunted, little plant in his lap, then back to Neville again. He smiled and pretended that he'd understood why Neville seemed so attached to something so horrid looking; "Does it, uh, do anything?"

Beaming again, Neville quickly answered, "Loads of stuff! It's got an amazing defense mechanism. Here, hold Trevor for me."

He dumped the toad into Harry's unwelcoming lap and, after pulling a new quill from his bag, violently poked the plant. To everyone's horror, thick, sickly-smelling jets of green pus shot out of every single boil covering that plant. They hit every possible surface of the compartment, dousing Luna's magazine, drenching Harry's face and soaking Neville completely. Ginny had been able to cover her face, but her hair had received the brunt of it. The smell alone was almost too much to handle.

Harry could feel his grip tighten around Neville's struggling toad as he spat a mouthful of the Stinksap to the floor. That little fiasco was the last thing he needed. As if he didn't have enough going through his mind at that moment. The only thing that could have made it any worse was –

The compartment door slid open and a quiet voice spoke, "Oh. Hello, Harry. Um, bad timing?"

Harry looked up to find none other than the girl he had liked for nearly two years standing in the doorway. Cho Chang looked as pretty as ever. Harry couldn't have been more embarrassed in his present situation; "Oh, hi." he responded dryly.

"Um, I just thought I'd say hello," Cho said, her face turning a lovely shade of pink, "Bye, then."

Harry sank back into his seat. Why couldn't the girl he liked have walked in on him with people who were actually cool, instead of the outcasts? Why did she have to see him completely covered with Stinksap, instead laughing joyously with his friends? The last thing he had wanted was anymore embarrassment. Well, whether or not he'd wanted it, he'd gotten it - an entire, disgusting mouthful, to be precise.

"Look, we can get rid of all this easily," Ginny said as she pulled out her wand, "_Scourgify_!" With a quick swish, the Stinksap was gone.

Harry plopped Trevor back into Neville's lap. Neville wrapped his long fingers around the toad that had always seemed to evade him and sighed. "Sorry." he said quietly.

It was another hour before Ron and Hermione came around to the compartment, just as Harry and Ginny were exchanging Chocolate Frog cards. They slumped themselves down onto the seats, seemingly exhausted. They quickly filled everyone in on who all of the prefects were. The time seemed to go by a little quicker, now that Ron and Hermione were there. Harry had only wished they would've been there earlier.

It didn't take very long, however, for the door to fly open. Sighing, Harry looked over, only to be faced with the horrid vision of Draco Malfoy standing there, a cocky grin plastered onto his pale, pointed face. The large figures of Crabbe and Goyle flanked Malfoy, as always. Hermione glared at them. Ron sank in his seat.

"What?" Harry said angrily, before Malfoy had a chance to speak first.

"Tsk, tsk. Manners, Potter, or I'll have to give you a detention," Malfoy practically cooed, "You see, I, unlike you, have been made a prefect, which means that I, unlike you, have the power to hand out punishments."

"Shove it, Malfoy" Harry said coolly.

"Tell me, Potter," Draco continued, ignoring Harry, "how does it feel being second-best to Weasley?"

"Shut up," Ron answered quickly.

Malfoy smirked again, "Did you forget, Weasleby? Your protection is gone again this year. Isn't that terrible gentlemen?"

Crabbe and Goyle snickered. The 'protection' that Malfoy had referred to was Carly, a girl who'd had befriended Harry, Ron and Hermione early on in their time at Hogwarts, despite being several years older. Carly was well known amongst the students to be exceptionally gifted at magic, often mastering spells long before the teachers had even begun to cover them, most of the time with very little effort. She was also rather well known for having an extraordinarily, if not questionably, close relationship with Professor Dumbledore. She saw her skills as nothing special, and often downplayed the attention she got because of them. Smart, witty, and sarcastic to a fault, she wasn't likely to put up with anyone's crap, least of all Malfoy's. He usually backed off when Carly was around.

"Move on, Malfoy." Ron said.

Draco smirked, "I seem to have singed a nerve. Just watch yourself, Potter, because I'll be _dogging_ your footsteps in case you step out of line."

Harry froze, but his eyes slowly drifted towards Hermione. She looked as though she were trying to hide any amount of fear in her eyes as well. Did Draco know? Had Mr. Malfoy recognized Sirius at the station?

"Get out, Malfoy," Hermione said, "There's nothing for you here."

Malfoy sneered, and then left with a roll of his eyes. Hermione got up and slammed the door closed in his wake. She sat back down and groaned, "I'm so tired of him."

"And this just started?" Ron asked sarcastically, "Chuck us another Frog." It appeared as though he'd been completely oblivious to Malfoy's comment.

"No." Hermione replied, her eyes watching Harry.

"Good."

Turning to the window, Harry knew that he could not speak openly about what Malfoy had said in his present company. He'd thought Sirius' jaunt to the station with him had been a bit of a laugh. It was nice to have someone see him off for once. Suddenly, though, the move seemed dangerous and foolish. Harry knew that Hermione had been right when they'd left the house, Sirius should not have come with them. But, had Mr. Malfoy recognized Sirius in his animal form and told Draco, or had Draco's use of the term "dogging" been nothing more than a mere coincidence?

"It is going to be difficult again this year," Neville said quietly, looking at Trevor, "without Carly and all."

Harry wasn't surprised that Neville missed her so much. In his first year at Hogwarts, Neville struggled so much that Carly offered to help him with his homework. She'd spent many a weekend with Neville in the common room, going over spells and potions. Whether her help had really done any good, Harry didn't know. He did know, however, that it had been a great comfort to Neville to have someone simply helping him; instead of telling him how poor his skills were.

Since Carly left Hogwarts, Neville hadn't been the only one to feel a little bit of emptiness in the common room.

"I really do miss her." Hermione added.

"We all do." Harry said, "Where do you suppose she is?"

"She's most likely working for the Ord- _OW_!" Ron turned to Hermione, who had just thrust her elbow into his side. She gave him a harsh look, and shrewdly nodded in Neville's general direction. He had clearly forgotten that he was in mixed company. Ron took the hint; "I mean, who knows?"

"She could be anywhere." Harry added, trying to help Ron cover his near-slip.

"Fred told me George wrote her last year," Ginny said, taking a bite out of a Chocolate Frog, "but, apparently, he never heard back."

Ron looked at Ginny, flabbergasted; "What was George doing writing Carly?"

"How should I know?" Ginny asked, "Don't you dare say anything, Ron!"

"The three of them were friends, though, weren't they?" Hermione asked.

"Oh, sure, as good of friends as Carly ever let anyone be." Ron answered.

"Who are you talking about?" Luna interjected, her pale eyes peering out from over the top of her magazine. Everyone, except for Ginny, stared at Luna was though she'd just gone a little bit nuttier. Ginny gave them all a very stern glare in response.

"Carly," Ginny answered, "A Gryffindor who was a sixth year when we started school. She left our second year."

"Oh, yes," Luna replied dreamily, "I've heard of her. Very smart, wasn't she? Would have been a wonderful Ravenclaw. Wit beyond measure is a man's greatest treasure!"

Harry turned and looked out the window. A slight patter of rain trickled against the glass. It didn't seem long before the sky outside went dark and the lamps inside the compartments turned on by themselves. Luna finally finished her magazine, and took to entertaining herself by staring at everyone else. Harry placed his forehead against the cool glass of the window, hoping that he might catch the first glimpse of Hogwarts, but the weather and moonless sky proved that to be rather difficult indeed.

"We'd better change." Hermione said at last. Everyone opened their trunks and changed into their flowing black Hogwarts robes. Ron and Hermione carefully pinned their Prefect badges to their chests. As they picked up their trash, the train started to slow down. Soon the humble murmurs from the compartments became load shouts and calls as everyone clambered to gather their things together. Ron and Hermione hurried ahead to supervise the departure from the platform, while Harry, Neville and Luna were stuck looking after Pidwidgeon and Crookshanks. They eventually made their way out of the compartment and through the doors. The night air was cold against Harry's face. He could smell the pine trees that lined the way to the lake and up towards Hogwarts. He looked around, hoping to hear that all too familiar voice hollering above the crowd, "Firs' years! Firs' years over here . . . " But it wasn't there. Instead it was a harsh female voice that called over the crowd – "First years line up over here, please! All first years to me!"

Harry turned and saw Professor Grubbly-Plank standing on the platform, beckoning to the first year students; "Where's Hagrid?" he asked out loud.

"I don't know," Ginny replied. Her next words were lost over the noise of the crowd. He lost track of her as he shuffled towards the carriages that would take the students older than first year to the school. As he drew nearer to the coaches, he noticed that they were no longer horseless. There were dark, horse-like creatures standing between the shafts in front of the carriage. They looked similar to dragons in the face, and were disturbingly emaciated. Their eyes were a milky sort of white and their wings leathery. Harry shook his head. He could not figure out why the coaches were being pulled by these horse-like creatures when they could have easily pulled themselves.

After a rather embarrassing discovery that proved Luna was the only other person who seemed to be able to see the horse-like creatures, Harry quietly got in a coach with Ron, Hermione, Ginny and Luna. He didn't mention the creatures to anyone else, but he couldn't help noticing their dark silhouettes through the steamed windows of the carriage. He thought instead of where Hagrid was, and why he seemed to have disappeared.

The entranceway was echoing with the sound of footsteps as everyone proceeded up to the Great Hall for the start-of-term banquet. Harry noticed the ceiling of the Great Hall was starless and black, a perfect reflection of the sky outside. Long candles floated in mid-air above the tables. The House tables were filling up fast with students who smiled and hugged their friends whom they hadn't seen all summer. They chatted about their travels and the news the _Daily Prophet_ had been reporting over the previous months. Harry made his way to the Gryffindor table, and tried his hardest to ignore those people who brought their heads together and began to whisper as he walked past. He found a seat with Ron, Hermione and Neville halfway down the table between Nearly Headless Nick and Parvati Patil and Lavender Brown. The two girls welcomed Harry sweetly, a little too sweetly. He knew at once that they'd been speaking about him only moments before. He sat down and surveyed the staff table, but his search was in vain. Hagrid was not there. Ron and Hermione noticed as well.

"Who's that?" Hermione asked harshly, motioning over to a woman sitting near the center of the staff table. Harry followed her gaze. The woman she was talking about was sitting next to Dumbledore and speaking into his ear. She looked very much like an aunt from hell. She was short and squat, with curly, mousy-brown brown hair and a bright pink bow on the top of her head. Her matching pink cardigan was disgustingly fluffy. As she turned slightly to sip from her goblet, an instant pang of recognition ran through Harry.

"It's that Umbridge woman!" he whispered to Ron and Hermione.

"Who?"

"She was at my hearing at the Ministry, she works for Fudge!"

"Lovely cardigan," Ron added with a little smirk.

"She works for Fudge?" Hermione said quietly, almost to herself, "What on earth's she doing here, then?"

"Dunno . . . "

Hermione's eyes fell to Umbridge once more; "No," she muttered, "no, surely not . . . "

Before Harry could even understand what Hermione was thinking, let alone respond, the doors to the Great Hall opened and the stern Professor McGonagall led the rather large group of frightened-looking first years to the front of the Hall. Once they were all standing before the rest of the school, Professor McGonagall placed a three-legged stool in front of them and then put the Sorting Hat on top of it. The first years, their faces seemingly glowing the candlelight, stared at the hat in amazement. Harry noticed a boy towards one end of the line trembling slightly, and recalled that same feeling when he was standing up there five years prior. The entire room fell silent as a tear above the brim opened and it began to sing:

_In times of old, when I was new,  
And Hogwarts barely started,  
The founders of our noble school  
Thought never to be parted.  
United by a common goal,  
They had the selfsame yearning  
To make the world's best magic school  
And pass along their learning.  
"Together we will build and teach"  
The four good friends decided.  
And never did they dream that they  
Might some day be divided.  
For were there such friends anywhere  
As Slytherin and Gryffindor?  
Unless it was the second pair  
Unless it was the second pair  
Of Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw,  
So how could it have gone so wrong?  
How could such friendships fail?  
Why, I was there, so I can tell  
The whole sad, sorry tale.  
Said Slytherin, "We'll teach just those  
Whose ancestry's purest."  
Said Ravenclaw, "We'll teach those whose  
Intelligence is surest"  
Said Gryffindor, "We'll teach all those  
With brave deeds to their name."  
Said Hufflepuff, "I'll teach the lot  
And treat them just the same."  
These differences caused little strife  
When first they came to light.  
For each of the four founders had  
A house in which they might  
Take only those they wanted, so,  
For instance, Slytherin  
Took only pure-blood wizards  
Of great cunning just like him.  
And only those of sharpest mind  
Were taught by Ravenclaw  
While the bravest and the boldest  
Went to daring Gryffindor.  
Good Hufflepuff, she took the rest  
and taught them all she knew,  
Thus, the houses and their founders  
Maintained friendships firm and true._

So Hogwarts worked in harmony  
for several happy years,  
but then discord crept among us  
feeding on our faults and fears.

The Houses that, like pillars four  
had once held up our school  
now turned upon each other and  
divided, sought to rule.  
And for a while it seemed the school  
must meet an early end.  
what with dueling and with fighting  
and the clash of friend on friend.  
And at last there came a morning  
when old Slytherin departed  
and though the fighting then died out  
he left us quite downhearted.  
And never since the founders four  
were whittled down to three  
have the Houses been united  
as they once were meant to be.

And now the Sorting Hat is here  
and you all know the score:  
I sort you into Houses  
because that is what I'm for.  
But this year I'll go further,  
listen closely to my song:  
though condemned I am to split you  
still I worry that it's wrong,  
though I must fulfill my duty  
and must quarter every year  
still I wonder whether sorting  
may not bring the end I fear.  
Oh, know the perils, read the signs,  
the warning history shows,  
for our Hogwarts is in danger  
from external, deadly foes  
and we must unite inside her  
or we'll crumble from within  
I have told you, I have warned you...  
let the Sorting now begin.

As it finished, the entire hall broke into applause, but this time, the applause was spattered with whispers and murmurs. Everyone was leaning over to their neighbors, discussing the hat's sudden divergence from its usual description of the traits belonging to each Hogwarts House. He'd never heard it give out warnings before.

"Branched out a bit this year, hasn't it?" Ron asked.

"Too right it has," Harry replied.

"Do you think it's ever done that before," Hermione inquired, "You know, given warnings?"

"Yes, indeed it has," Nearly Headless Nick responded, "The hat feels itself honor-bound to give the school due warning whenever it feels that those inside are in danger."

"But, how - ?" Ron began, but Nick pressed his ring-clad finger to his ghostly lips before Ron could finish.

Professor McGonagall, who'd been waiting for the whispers to subside, unrolled a large scroll, "When I call out your name, you will come forward and sit on the stool, I will place the Sorting Hat on your head and when the Hat states your house, you will go sit at the appropriate table. Abercrombie, Euan."

The trembling boy Harry had noticed before stepped cautiously towards the stool and sat down. Professor McGonagall plopped the hat upon the boy's head. After a moment of contemplation, the tear above the brim opened up and shouted, "GRYFFINDOR!"

Harry whooped and cheered with the rest of his house as Euan Abercrombie, his face beet red, took his seat with the rest of his house.

"Almena, Alison."

"HUFFLEPUFF!"

Alison hopped off the stool and headed to the roaring Hufflepuff table.

"Andresen, Conner."

"SLYTHERIN!"

"I wish Carly was here," Hermione said, "She always loved the sorting."

"I doubt we'll ever see her again." Ron replied as 'Andrews, Matthew' joined Hufflepuff.

"Did you honestly think you could get rid of me that easily?"

Harry, Ron and Hermione spun around. Standing behind them was a tall twenty-year-old girl. She was slightly thinner than she had been when Harry last saw her, and she looked a little older, but that mischievous smirk was still there. Her long brown hair hung wet and loose over her shoulders and her hands sat sternly on her hips. They all looked to each other and smiled. With barely a moment's hesitation, Hermione jumped up and threw her arms around the girl; "Carly!" she exclaimed softly, so as not to disrupt the Sorting. Carly hugged Hermione back, her smile big.

"Brasco, Stephan." McGonagall's voice barely registered.

Harry couldn't believe it. Was it really her? Was she really back? What was she doing here? For that moment, though, none of it really mattered. She was back. It was just what Harry had needed to take his mind off of everything else, for a time. While a smile, he turned to Ron and got up as Hermione pulled herself away, then put his arms around her shoulders, "It's so good to see you, Carly." he said quietly to her ear.

"I know," she said, hugging him. "I'm so sorry, Harry. I wish – I wish I'd been here –" she whispered softly in his ear.

"SLYTHERIN!"

Ron got up and nudged her in the shoulder. Carly turned and looked to him, the smirk on her face growing bigger, "What's that for?"

"Where the bloody hell you been?" Ron asked, the smile in his eyes betraying the seriousness on his face.

Carly put her arm around him, "It's okay to hug me, you know. It'll just make all the other girls jealous."

Many of the students, it seemed, had forgotten the sorting completely, and instead were watching Carly's return to the Gryffindor table unfold. Several other Gryffindors were smiling and loudly whispering her name down the table. Others were simply craning their necks trying to figure out what was going on. Noticing this, Carly released Ron and looked up to Professor McGonagall, who was peering at them over her roll of parchment. "I think you guys should sit back down." she whispered as she turned to McGonagall and gave a little wave, "Sorry about that, Professor."

"That's quite alright, Carly, good to see you." McGonagall responded, and then continued on with the Sorting in a loud, clear voice, "Dunbar, Megan."

Carly squeezed in between Harry and Neville. Instantly, an extra plate, goblet and set of utensils appeared before her while those plates sitting before Harry and Neville scooted over to make room for the new setting. Carly turned and whispered cordialities with Neville, who looked immensely happy to see her. He immediately began to quietly tell her about the gift his great-uncle had brought him back from Assyria. Harry noticed that Neville failed to mention anything about the Stinksap incident.

"RAVENCLAW!"

The Ravenclaw table burst into applause. Soon 'Evans, John' joined Slytherin along with 'Gallant, J.T.' while 'Goodman, Gillian' and 'Kohl, Allie' became Hufflepuffs. Carly looked up as every name was called and politely clapped when each first year was sorted into their house, and would then keep chatting with those around her. She leaned across the table to speak with Dean, whom she had helped with the _Riddikulus_ charm during Lupin's time as Defense Against the Dark Arts professor.

"Lappenbusch, Vivian."

"GRYFFINDOR!"

The Gryffindor table erupted into thunderous applause. Carly cheered and clapped alongside the students of her old house as Vivian took her seat at the end of the table.

Eventually, the line of first years grew thinner and thinner, until the sorting finally came to an end with 'Zeller, Rose', was sorted into Hufflepuff. Professor Dumbledore stood up as Professor McGonagall picked up the hat and stool and marched them away. Harry suddenly felt better, now that he saw Dumbledore standing before the students. With the scare of Sirius being recognized to Hagrid being gone, and the appearance of the frightening horse-like creatures to the whispers of his fellow classmates as he walked by, Harry had felt that his long awaited return to Hogwarts had been a far bumpier journey than he would have liked. Dumbledore, however, was there as he always had been. It was a great reassurance to Harry to see Dumbledore, despite his previously bitter feelings towards the headmaster. And now that Carly was there, the road ahead was starting to look a little smoother, no matter how long it may or may not last.

"To our newcomers," Dumbledore said with a smile, "welcome! To our old hands, welcome back! There is a time for speech making, but this is not it. Tuck in!"

Suddenly, the tables filled with food and the goblets with pumpkin juice. The entire length of the table seemed to moan from the very weight of all of the food, though few noticed or cared. Ron, groaning with delight at the very sight of the delicacies before him, dug right in. Harry and Hermione were a little gentler when it came to choosing their food. The Hall broke out into loud discussion over dinner. Much of the attention at the Gryffindor table seemed to have suddenly moved to Carly's visit, though Harry noticed that it had not completely abandoned him. Many of those students from the higher years came over to speak with Carly, to say hi, to ask her how things were. She was in the middle of describing her near encounter with a wyvern the previous winter when two familiar redheads came to squeeze themselves into the bench along either side of her.

"Why, George," Fred said over Carly as though she wasn't there, "I happen to recall this one girl that we knew a while back . . . "

"Why, yes, Fred," George replied back over her head to his brother, "I seem to remember her, too; brown hair, sickeningly pale, too smart for her own good?"

"The very same." Fred answered with a nod.

"Whatever happened to her?"

"Merlin knows, I'm afraid. Haven't heard from her in ages. She could have died, and we wouldn't have even known."

"Dead?" George answered, "No!"

"Quite possibly."

"Well, Fred, I believe flowers are in order . . . "

Calmly setting down her goblet, Carly beamed between the twins, "Messrs Weasley, that couldn't possibly be me about whom you are speaking?"

Fred and George recoiled in mock shock. They both looked very closely at Carly's face, then looked to one another, then back to Carly. They punched her shoulders. "Where on earth have you been?" they asked in unison.

"You Weasleys are all alike, have you ever noticed?" she asked, pushing the twins back.

"Stop avoiding the question, will you?" George said playfully.

"Let's just say," Carly said in a most sly manner, "that I figured the outside world was a better learning environment for me, rather than a cold, dark classroom."

George turned to Fred, "Have you ever heard more beautiful words spoken?"

"Indeed, George, I have not." Fred replied with a devious grin.

"Now don't go giving them any ideas," Ron said as he grabbed another slice of steak and kidney pie, "Mum would have a fit."

Carly smirked, then exchanged glances with Fred and George. "Ron!" she cried in false exasperation, "I would never dream of it!"

"Carly, who's the new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher?" Hermione asked.

Carly looked over to the staff table. She seemed to cringe at the very sight of the woman. "That," she said in between sips from her goblet, "is Dolores Jane Umbridge. She is the Senior Undersecretary for the Minister of Magic. Or, at least she was, until now."

"Bit of a toad, isn't she?" Fred asked.

"I'll say," George responded, making croaking noises.

"She was at my hearing, over the summer." Harry told her.

"Was she?" Carly said, surprised.

"Yeah, I didn't like her much."

"That's my boy," Carly said with a smile.

"What is someone from the Ministry doing teaching at Hogwarts?" Hermione asked.

"I should think it was quite obvious, really," Carly said, but before she could elaborate, Dumbledore stood from his place at the front of the hall and all the chatting immediately ceased. He began with the typical start-of-term notifications, primarily that the Forbidden Forest was out of bounds and to please go check the extensive list of things not permitted in the halls that was stuck to Filch's office door, then went on to introduce the staff changes for the year. Just as Dumbledore had started to give the dates of the tryouts for Quidditch house teams, a soft, disgustingly girly "_Hem-hem_" emanated from behind him.

Dumbledore stopped and turned to Umbridge. Few had noticed she'd even stood up, seeing as she was so short. The students began turning to each other and whispering, wondering why on earth Dumbledore would have stopped himself short. It became all to clear when Umbridge walked around to the front of the table and smiled at the students. She had every intention of making a speech of her own.

"Thank you, Headmaster," she began breathily, "for those kind words of welcome." She _hem-hem_-ed again, smiled once more and continued; "Well, it is lovely to be back at Hogwarts, I must say! And to see such happy little faces looking back at me! I am very much looking forward to getting to know you all, and I'm sure we'll be very good friends!"

Glancing around the Hall, Harry noticed no happy-looking faces looking at her. In fact, they all appeared to have begun ignoring her already. He certainly did not appreciate being addressed as though he were nothing more than a child. Carly rolled her eyes and pretended to gag.

Umbridge went on to discuss her great respect for teachers and her appreciation for the education of young witches and wizards, droning on and on, intermingled with the occasional, sickening "_hem-hem_". She seemed very much clueless as to the fact that she no longer had an audience, if she'd had much of one after her first few sentences. Several students had already resumed their quiet conversations, their words and giggles hushed. Others had started reading; Luna had pulled out her copy of _The Quibbler_ once again, this time right-side-up. Some seemed to still be paying attention, only to have their eyes glazed over in mock interest. Fred and George had set their heads on the table and were pretending to sleep. Hermione was the only one left who seemed to be paying attention, but it was clear that she disapproved of the new professor's words.

" . . . Let us move forward, then, into a new era of openness, effectiveness, and accountability, intent on preserving what ought to be preserved, perfecting what needs to be perfected, and pruning wherever we find practices that ought to be prohibited."

Smiling sweetly, she returned to her seat. Dumbledore stood and clapped. The rest of the staff did the same, though the effort was certainly not there. The students applauded as well, if only to be polite. Carly and Hermione exchanged knowing glances.

"Thank you very much, Professor Umbridge," Dumbledore started, bowing to her, "that was most illuminating. Now, as I was saying - "

"It most certainly was." Hermione added in a low voice.

"What?" Ron said as Fred and George perked up, "That was about the dullest speech I've ever heard, and I grew up with Percy."

"Dumbledore was right," Carly said, "It was rather illuminating, certainly not entertaining, but enlightening nonetheless."

"What are you two talking about?" Ron asked impatiently, "What does it mean?"

"It means, Ron," Carly said as Hermione nodded, "that the Ministry is interfering at Hogwarts."

Before anyone could react, there was a great amount of clambering and banging everywhere. It was clear that Dumbledore had excused the students, all of whom were beginning to head towards their dormitories. Fred and George rushed off to walk with Lee, while Ron and Hermione headed off to show the first years where to go. Harry was left behind to walk up to his dormitory with Carly. Their walk was mostly in silence, except for the random odd question as other Gryffindors passed by.

They stopped before the painting of the Fat Lady. Harry looked to Carly, "Uh-oh, I don't know the password."

"It's okay you guys, I know it!" Neville said as he came jogging behind them, Guess what it is? I'm actually going to be able to remember it for once!" He turned to the Fat Lady, and waved the stunted cactus in front of her, "_Mimbulus mimletonia_!"

"Correct." The Fat Lady said as her portrait swung open. Harry, Neville and Carly climbed through into the surprisingly deserted common room. It looked as though everyone had already retreated to their dormitories. With a quiet good-night to Carly, Neville headed up to his bed. Carly looked around longingly at the room, "I had no idea how much I missed this place."

"Where are you sleeping? Have you got a room?" Harry asked.

"Oh dear, Merlin knows . . ." Carly responded absentmindedly as she strolled around the room, running her fingers over the frames of the paintings. Harry smiled at the memory of Carly never sleeping in her own dormitory. She had always found another place to spend a night.

"Stop smiling!" Carly exclaimed, "I've got a place to sleep, don't you fret. Now, good night, Harry."

"Good Night." Harry replied as he watched Carly walk back over to the portrait and silently slip out of the tower.

As he lay in bed that night, unable to sleep once more, Harry wondered about Carly's sudden presence at Hogwarts. Her appearance had been just as abrupt as her departure a year and a half prior. She'd only had a few months left before she was to finish her seventh and final year at Hogwarts, but she just unexpectedly left without a single goodbye. He remembered that night as clearly as he ever had, even though it was one of those nights he wished he could have forgotten. He was happy to see her again, that much was certain, but it had been so long since he'd seen her last, and he was sure that she was not about to let anyone in on her whereabouts.


	4. Chapter 4

_Thanks everyone who reviewed the last chapter, and to those who have taken such a liking to the story! I appreciate the feedback! Enjoy the chapter_

* * *

Amara watched in silence as the lights in Gryffindor tower slowly went out and its inhabitants at last found sleep. The rain grew heavier and spattered forcefully against the paned window that separated her from the cold outside. She was more than glad to be indoors, where a warm fire was dancing in its berth and a soft bed was awaiting her slumber. With fresh clothes in place of the old, tattered ones she'd worn for some time, and her dark hair washed and pulled away from her face, she looked in far better shape than she had upon her arrival to Hogwarts, a mere two days before. Dumbledore had hardly recognized her when she walked through the entrance to the school, though that was soon fixed. Under the careful watch of Madame Pomfrey, Amara had healed her many wounds, mended her aching fingers and straightened out a disjointed knee. The dirt, ash, muck and dried blood had all been rinsed away from her face, revealing her far more pleasant-looking profile underneath. The heat of the fire was a welcome sensation against her pink cheeks. She'd spent one too many cold nights sleeping out in the open, nearly freezing, although many of her travels took place during the hot summer months.

Despite the moonless sky, she could not find herself able to tear her eyes away from the tower that she had long lost sight of. The Gryffindor rooms were there, sitting in the darkness, their residents exhausted from their lengthy day. She wondered if her charge had yet fallen asleep, or if, he too, was still awake, not likely to drift to sleep any time soon. A rush of guilt washed over her. She was angry at herself for leaving, for not having been there and helped when she could have. If she had been there for him, if she had only been there, she could have provided him with a trusted shoulder, she could have helped to ease the pain.

Upon her silent return last Christmas, she'd told Dumbledore that there was so much for her to do, but he'd requested her to go elsewhere. And, without question, she did it. As angry as she would get with Dumbledore, she owed much to him, and trusted him more deeply than any other she'd met. That did not mean, however, she did not doubt his decisions from time to time. She shook her head, and few stray hairs fell out of place; Dumbledore knew what it he was doing - he must have. She pressed her hand against the window, its cold glass stinging the tips of her warm fingers. She hoped that, somehow, her charge could know that she was there for him, that she was back. His mind, though, was on more important things, things she could only begin to imagine.

She stood and walked away from the window. She had been sitting there for what had felt like all day, though she doubted it had really been that long. She turned to the small mirror on the table beside her bed. It was an old antique she'd carried around with her for years. There were chips in the glass and the gold filigree edges had long since lost their once glorious sheen. It had certainly seen more prosperous days. She tenderly picked the mirror up and looked into it. The face looking back at her seemed so much like the face of a stranger. It had been so long since she'd seen herself that she hardly even recognized her own reflection. Her likeness was so different, or, at least, it seemed to be different. She'd thinned out over the previous year, yes, that much was true, but it really was her eyes that appeared to have changed. They seemed weary and more crestfallen than they had in the past. She sighed; perhaps her age was finally catching up to her.

"Arthur." she said quietly. The mirror shook lightly in her grasp, and then the image of a man replaced her own reflection. He had a long, thin face and his red hair had already begun to leave him balding. She knew his face, though the recognition was not returned. He had never laid eyes upon her before. If he was surprised by her appearance, he was careful not to show it. She was sure he expected someone so close to Dumbledore to look much older. If he only knew.

"Ah, Ms. Corvus, I presume?" the man asked, pleasantly. Amara nodded her answer without speaking. He smiled half-heartedly, "Dumbledore had expected you to be back earlier,"

"There were several delays," she interjected before he could continue. She greatly despised small talk when there were more important things to speak of; "Any news?"

Arthur looked at her the way a father looks worriedly at a child; it was the kind of look that Amara hardly knew; "Are you well?" he asked quietly, "Would you prefer to do this in the morning, once you've had some rest?"

Amara looked to the man in the mirror. She knew he was only expressing his concern, but her well-being was not of any particular significance at the moment; "I am as well as I ever will be."

"Of course." he said with a nod. Clearing his throat, he continued, "Well, now that you've returned, Kingsley has begun to feed the Ministry word that Sirius has been spotted moving out of Tibet, with a likely intent of heading further south."

"Where does that leave me?" Amara asked, "If I am to be a decoy -"

"If Dumbledore's word was correct," Arthur responded before she could finish, "and I, for one, have never known it to be wrong, the Death Eaters were following you as closely as the Aurors. It was too dangerous. There was too much of a risk of spilling innocent blood."

"The only innocent blood left resides in this school. It most certainly will not be found at the Ministry." she retorted absentmindedly. Her disdain for the Ministry was not exactly a secret. She then looked at Arthur quickly, having forgotten that he worked for the Ministry, "Present company excluded, of course."

Arthur smiled, his agreement with her feelings very clear on his face; "Ms. Corvus -"

"Please, call me Amara." she softly threw in.

"Amara," he continued, "Dumbledore would like you to stay were you are – at Hogwarts."

She sighed audibly, "I wish he would simply tell me these things himself. He is only a short walk down the hall."

"You know how busy he is." Arthur protested, "He needs you to keep an eye on our charge for him."

Amara nodded, "As the dictations of my return had stated, even though he already has -"

"Please, Dumbledore wouldn't ask you to abandon your work for the Order if this was not important. I thought he would have told you that." Arthur responded. Amara noticed suddenly how tired he looked.

"He did. It's just -" she stopped herself. Up until that point, she'd been refusing to admit to anyone how her return home was making her feel. It was not in her nature to be mysterious, despite the amount of mystery that naturally seemed to swirl around her. She did not want to risk any of the Order finding out who she really was. She had no desire to sit down and explain to them why she'd left, and why she seemed not to have changed. Her anonymity was the only thing that was keeping certain memories and emotions suppressed. She had been telling herself even since Dumbledore had told her to come home that it was all going to be okay, but she knew it wouldn't be so – not if they saw her, not if _he_ saw her. She'd left for a reason, and doubted that he'd yet come to forgive or forget. She did not want her feelings to grow wild and take control – feelings of guilt, longing, remorse, sadness, pain and anger. She was afraid that seeing him would bring back memories that she'd long attempted to stifle. She was not ready for him to know. The farther away she stayed, the better it was for everyone.

She looked at Arthur. He looked so tired. She wondered if he had spoken to him, if he knew where _he_ was. She wanted to ask Arthur about him, if he was okay, but knew that it was neither the time nor the place. She took a deep breath and composed herself, "Have you told anyone of me, of who I am? Anyone at all?"

"No one of consequence – my wife, perhaps," Arthur answered, "The members know of your work, they just don't know who is doing it."

"It is for the good of the Order that my work remains . . . anonymous."

"Yes, Dumbledore did mention your anonymity." he replied, almost to himself.

"What else did Dumbledore tell you about me?"

"Very little I'm afraid."

"That is for the best. The less you know the better."

"What is it that we should know of you?" Arthur inquired cautiously. She could tell his suspicions were rising.

Amara looked him sternly in the eye, "That my loyalty is unwavering."


End file.
